shiny
and new
by tiffany
rawlins
So, Lance is gay and that's fine. But he doesn't date, he doesn't pick up guys, he doesn't do anything but work and he doesn't even break a sweat about never getting tail. Justin alternates between finding this endearing, amusing, baffling and sometimes, just plain infuriating. Everyone else gets some, Chris and Joey chasing after girls, JC and Justin going after anything they can get and Lance just sits back and waits for something. Lance doesn't even complain, only commenting on it when one of them asks him about his weird celibacy thing. Lance insists it's not some kind of policy, it's just that he doesn't have time, that he doesn't make it the end all of everything he does to get laid. "I don't have to be paired up, I don't need to fuck someone every free night I have," he says.
Once, during the last tour, after a long night of drinking everyone ganged up on him, in one of those discussions where Lance started out laughing and blushing. Chris and Justin insisted Lance was basically a virgin, as he said he'd never even kissed a guy. Lance explained that he had had sex with a woman, "penetration and everything," twice and therefore was not a virgin. Chris said that didn't count. Joey just laughed and JC inserted random comments about how it was really nice and not painful at all, really, being fucked and some guys would let you do all the fucking if you wanted. Justin wondered out loud if maybe Lance wouldn't just explode from not getting any for so long. Lance pointed out, still in the blushing stage, that he did masturbate. Then everything went downhill and Lance threw his beer on the floor and called all of them "stupid fucks."
Justin does pull-ups and enjoys it. He likes the strain in his arms and his back. He likes the sheen of sweat from a good workout. He likes to feel his strength. He imagines himself in some action movie and thinks if he were stuck in some dungeon he could pull himself up and escape through the drainpipes. He would get out clean and free. He finishes his reps and pulls off his shirt. He grabs his water bottle and lies down on the weight bench, panting a little. He closes his eyes for a moment and then opens them when someone kicks his feet.
Lance looms over him, shaking his head. "Please tell me you plan to clean that bench. You're sweating all over it, dude."
Justin grins and sits up. He looks Lance up and down. He has nice shoulders, Justin thinks. Lance has grown up well. Justin can't understand why Lance isn't beating off the boys with a stick, or at least, partaking a little and then beating off the rest. Justin takes a long drink of water and thinks Lance just settles for beating off. He leans back and stretches. "Lance, dude, aren't you worried you're gonna finally meet the guy for you and things'll be getting hot and heavy and then you'll be going down on him and he'll be like, what the fuck? You suck at this. You should, like get some practice or something."
Lance shakes his head and walks to the treadmill. "Justin, aren't I supposed to suck at that? That's the point, right? Suck, not blow? Besides, I think it will be okay."
Justin makes a few stray wipes at the sweat on the bench with his towel and walks over to the treadmill. He leans on the sidearms while Lance starts running. "You hope. It would worry me."
Lance laughs. "I can't imagine any of your future sexual partners will be troubled by your inexperience, Justin. Is there anything you haven't done?"
Justin giggles and rests his head on his arms. He watches Lance's ass bounce up and down. Lance has a nice ass. "There's lot of kinky shit I haven't done. You know? People who are all turned on by people shitting on them? Stuff with cutting and that? Not my thang."
"Nice to know you draw a line somewhere." Lance keeps running and Justin watches his ass.
Justin looks up. "You could practice on me."
Lance laughs and has to grab the treadmill so he doesn't fall off. He stabs the stop button and sits down, still laughing, hand on his chest. "Justin. Fuck. Don't make jokes like that."
Justin leans over the arms. "I wasn't kidding. You could, like, practice on me. We could make out and shit."
Lance covers his face for a moment and then stands up. He's grinning and he starts the treadmill again. "Justin. Please. Seriously. I am not an object for your boredom and I don't have some problem that you need to fix."
Justin makes a tentative reach at Lance and says, "No. Seriously. You're cute. I'd do you."
Lance bats his hand away. "Thanks. I, on the other hand, wouldn't do you. So, dude, go play somewhere else. I'm trying to work out here."
"You don't think I'm cute?"
"You're not cute. You're hot. And you know it. But I'm not interested. We work together, I've known you for years since you were incredibly underaged and, really, Justin, you're not my type. So. Leave me alone." Lance is still smiling so Justin keeps leaning against the treadmill. He watches Lance's ass bounce again and scratches his own stomach, feeling sweat and muscle under his fingers.
*
"So what is your type?"
"What?" They're in the limo on the way to some party, Joey and JC and Chris up in the car ahead. Justin pulls his shirt so the mesh is tight against his chest and looks at Lance. Lance looks good. They're all wearing leather that night and Lance has these strappy red wristbands that are kind of turning Justin on. He sniffs and picks at his teeth and crosses his legs.
"I'm not your type," Justin says agreeably, even though he doesn't believe that's true. Lance nods and flips the bracelet around so the snap faces in. "What's your type then?"
"Oh, you know," Lance says, looking out the window. Justin remembers that answer. He reaches for the remote and cranks the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
"Dude, you can't avoid sex forever."
"I'm not -- I don't need you to tell me my type."
"So you tell me," Justin says. He looks over his shoulder and then flicks the button to roll the privacy glass up. He shrugs. "I'll tell you mine."
"Cause there are people you won't fuck?" Lance asks, laughing.
"I like serious guys," Justin says. "Chicks, you know, whatever, it's all about fun. Guys gotta have that intense look about them. They have to look you in the eye when you're up against them. You know what I mean?"
Lance doesn't speak. He's tugging at the wristband again.
"Okay," Justin says, leaning forward. "Here's how you know. Just, like, close your eyes. Like you're gonna whack off. And see what you see."
Lance makes this choking noise and shakes his head.
Justin leans back against the seat and spreads his legs out, one arm up on the headrest. He shuts his eyes and keeps talking. "Like, right now." He slides one hand down his stomach and lets it rest on the button to his pants. "Right now if I wanted to get off I'd probably be thinking about D'Angelo." Really he's thinking about Lance. About Lance's ass. "Or, yeah, yeah, D'Angelo." He blinks and Lance is staring at him and looks away when he gets caught.
Justin gets up fast and straddles Lance, clamping his knees around Lance's hips, his hands on Lance's face. Lance looks up and frowns. Justin smiles and says, "Not even a little kiss?"
Lance closes his eyes and Justin kisses him softly. Soft and tender for a few seconds and then Lance is kissing back. Justin feels Lance shudder a little and then open his mouth. Lance feels warm in Justin's mouth, against his tongue. The stubble on Lance's jaw rubs against Justin's palms.
He could kiss for hours and he never does. He opens his mouth wider and presses more against Lance. He drags a knuckle along Lance's cheek. Everything's warm and tingly except the rough hair under his hands. Justin thinks about moving his hips a little but he's pretty sure Lance would freak. His knees bump against Lance's hands.
He breaks off the kiss and takes a deep breath. Lance opens his eyes and trembles. "Justin?"
Justin takes Lance's hands and puts them on his waist. He leans his forehead against Lance's and whispers, "Be polite." Lance grips Justin's waist and laughs a little before Justin starts kissing him again, harder now, hoping he leaves a mark of some kind.
He runs his hand down Lance's neck and rubs his thumb in a circle at the base of Lance's neck. He grips the back of Lance's head with his other hand. He's messing up Lance's hair and he smiles into the kiss. Lance moans a little and opens his mouth more. Justin moves his hips a little. He presses his crotch an inch or two closer to Lance's. Lance grips Justin's waist harder, his wrists pressing against Justin's hips. Justin waits for Lance to throw him off, but Lance just keeps kissing back.
The music is loud, bass thumping fast and Justin thinks it sounds like his heart. He never takes any time with kissing anymore. He decides that's a mistake. He's practically sucking on Lance's tongue and there's gel from Lance's hair almost melting into his hand. He's hard as a rock and all of it just from the way Lance's mouth presses against his and the heat of Lance's hands against his waist.
The song ends and Lance pushes him back onto his seat. "Justin," he exhales and shakes his head. Justin pulls at his pants and closes his eyes. "What are you doing?" Lance sounds exasperated and winded.
"Shh." Justin concentrates. "I'm picturing my fat, old third grade teacher. Naked. I don't want to get out of the limo all boner pants." Lance laughs. Justin opens his eyes and sees Lance with his face buried in his hands. "Dude, your hair. It's all fucked up." Justin giggles. "Sorry."
Lance looks up and opens his mouth but they're there and Justin steps out first. They split apart as soon as they arrive and Justin stays by Brit's side. He only thinks about the kissing once, when he sees Lance across the room, drinking something dark. He wonders briefly what the drink would taste like on Lance's tongue. He leaves with Brit and doesn't see Lance until the next morning.
*
At dinner two nights later he sits next to Lance, squeezing his shoulder as he slides into the high-backed chair. Lance smells like some kind of smoky, sweet wildfire and Justin keeps refilling their wine glasses cause you never know what someone will think is their type when they've had a few. Some guy being brought in by Clive Davis is telling a stupid joke and while everyone's laughing, Justin leans over and puts his lips on the edge of Lance's ear.
"Okay, see that guy?" Lance pulls away, and Justin nods down to the end of the table where a beefed up guitar player is looking oblivious. Justin leans back in. "He's hot, right? You could totally go, right now, and make out with him in the bathroom." Lance tugs back again but Justin anchors him with a hand on Lance's knee. "Just don't go past any kissing, cause we haven't done that yet, and you wouldn't want people saying, that Lance Bass, he can't give head for shit."
Justin gets up to find some better wine and leaves Lance there. When he comes back Lance is too drunk and cutting his steak into little inedible pieces. "If you had to lose a pound of flesh, right now," Lance says, holding the serrated knife close to Justin's face. "Where would you want it to be taken from?"
Justin laughs and nods again toward the guy. "I'm telling you, man," Justin says, and shoves back his chair and walks away.
*
He plops down on the bed next to Lance, who's lying on his stomach, reading some business report propped up on the pillow. No one has to double up on rooms anymore but this time they've all got a big suite together and it's not his fault Lance left his door open.
"I brought you some reading material," Justin says, spreading the magazines out. "I figured, faggy European fashion models maybe? I could see you going for that."
Lance just shakes his head and keeps marking text.
"How about this one?" Justin bumps his hip up against Lance's to get his attention.
"Shut up and go away."
"This one's all pouty mouth and stuff. And, hmm, judging by those pants, not cut. Do you mind that? Do you have a position on that, circumcised versus not?"
"Go away. Now."
"Cause, you know, I'm --"
"Justin, I swear to God, if you finish that sentence I might not ever talk to you again."
Justin throws his hands up. "Okay, okay." He flips onto his back and maneuvers a foot under Lance's leg, wiggling around until Lance finally looks over. Justin grins lazily and stretches out his neck. "Shut me up then." He slides his palms down his chest and hooks them into his beltloops and shrugs. "C'mon."
Lance goes back to the spreadsheet and Justin props himself up on his side and then clambers on Lance's back, pressing them both to the mattress. "Come on," he whines, drawling it out. He kisses the back of Lance's neck once and then pushes up on his knees to turn Lance over. He pulls on one shoulder and Lance gives in, flips, settles with his head crumpling the printouts and Justin leans down.
Jesus, Lance got cute when no one was looking, Justin thinks. Lance's face is trembling under his fingers and Lance blinks slowly and licks his lips.
"Your eyes are green," Justin says, sitting back.
"Yeah," Lance sputters, laughing, sounding nervous. "Pretty much."
"I mean, they're really green. I hadn't noticed before."
"Now that's a turn-on." Lance blushes and looks past him at the ceiling.
Justin slides down so he's spooned against Lance's side and leans over to kiss him. He grabs Lance's hand and puts it on his ass. Lance is still for a moment and then pulls Justin closer. Justin murmurs, "Exactly, be polite," and feels Lance laugh softly against his lips. They kiss for a little, for a nice long while, Justin thinks, and he can't imagine why Lance wouldn't want to do this all the time. Lance is even pretty good at it, for all his lack of experience, and Justin drags his leg over Lance's. He moves his hips and starts grinding into Lance a little.
"Okay, that's enough." Lance pushes Justin away and gets off the bed. "Justin, I have actual things to do and you probably do, too, and yeah." Lance turns around but not before Justin sees that he's hard.
Justin pushes off the bed and walks to the door. He leans against the doorway and puts his hands in his pockets. "Okeypokey. We can do this again whenever. You can keep the magazines -- and, you know, Brit or I can get you in touch with anyone you think is fine." Justin is out the door when Lance throws the magazines at him.
*
Then the movie thing starts and recording the album in earnest and Lance is only around on the weekends. He's always tired. Justin tells himself that teasing Lance is easier when he sits and listens to Lance for a while first and then he finds himself enjoying it. Lance has a sexy voice. And it's even interesting, Lance talking about the movie and Toronto and stuff about the album. Once or twice he forgets to ask if Lance has met anyone or who he thinks about when he's jerking off or if Justin's really not his type.
They haven't kissed in weeks and Justin doesn't forget that. It's fucking hot, the way Lance presses against his mouth, the taste of him. He can't quite find the right moment. Lance shows up on a Friday and he looks like George Jetson after going around the treadmill a few times. Work in the studio goes long and no one hits the right notes the first time or even the third time.
Justin walks into a back room to sit in the dark and breathe, get his shit together so they can make some real progress. In the half-light he sees Lance leaning against a wall, rubbing his eyes. "Hey," Justin says quietly. He walks over and rubs Lance's shoulder. Lance makes a sound like a gasp or a sob and clings to Justin. Justin rubs his back awkwardly. "Not your day, huh?"
Lance nods against his shoulder. "It's been a shitty day. Fucking shitty." Lance pulls away from him a little and puts his hands on Justin's face. He pulls Justin down into a kiss. Lance tastes a little of wine and Justin remembers Joey walking around with a bottle of the stuff.
Lance tugs on the back of Justin's neck. His other hand rubs Justin's waist. Lance opens his mouth wider and presses against Justin. Justin feels warm everywhere and then Lance moves his hand under Justin's shirt. He spreads his hand over Justin's stomach. Justin moans a little and Lance swallows the sound.
Lance's fingers rub Justin's stomach, and Justin tries to breathe but Lance is sucking on his tongue. Justin thinks Lance's fingers will leave blisters on his stomach, it's all so hot. Then Lance's hand on his neck shakes a little.
Fuck, Justin thinks. Fuck. He pulls back and breaks off the kiss. Lance's eyes flutter open and he stares at Justin. "You had a really bad day, right?" Justin says softly.
Lance nods and presses his hand against Justin's stomach, his fingers almost clawing at Justin. Justin inhales deeply. "And you had some of Joey's wine, right?" Lance nods again. Justin licks his lips and tastes wine from Lance's lips. He thinks some is an understatement. Justin shudders and says, "Fuck."
Lance looks down. His hand is still under Justin's shirt, impossibly warm against Justin's stomach. "Don't get all responsible with me, Justin, okay? Just --" Lance bites his lip.
Justin says "Fuck" again and grabs Lance's wrist. He moves Lance's hand away from him and lets go. He walks away and rubs his head. "Fuck." He looks back at Lance, already slumped against the wall with his head in his hands. "Lance, man. Fuck," he mumbles. He walks through dark corridors and folds his arms across his suddenly cold stomach.
He reaches a room where Joey, JC and Chris are all sitting. Joey is waving around an empty bottle of wine. Justin taps Joey on his shoulder. "Dude. Uh. I was just talking to Lance. And, uh. He seems kinda upset. You should talk to him."
Joey raises an eyebrow and says, "Okay, let me take care of that." He gets up and glares at Justin as he walks out. JC and Chris give him identical looks but Justin just walks out to his car and goes home. He stretches out on his bed and lifts his shirt. He expects to see something on his stomach but there's nothing.
The next morning Lance pulls him aside, outside the studio. "Look, Justin, I appreciate the big moment of maturity, but, uh, I need you to stop fucking with my head."
"Look. I'm not. It's not," Justin waves his hand.
Lance sighs and looks down. "I know, I know. I figure," and he pauses and plays with the hem of his shirt. "I figure it's one of two things. You're bored," he says, almost spitting. "You're bored and you're nervous about the album and you're doing all you can but you're still." Lance swallows and keeps playing with his shirt. "You're still nervous. And here I am to play with. I'm not discounting your, uh, affection for me, or whatever, but we both know it's a game you're playing."
Justin swallows and doesn't ask about the second reason. He doesn't say anything about how he's pretty sure that Lance meant "we" and not "you" most of the time when he talked about nerves. He just looks away.
He sits with Lance anyway and bites back any flirty remarks for the rest of the weekend. Lance falls asleep against his shoulder Sunday afternoon in the studio while JC finishes something and he sits there, rubbing the back of Lance's head for an hour until Joey wakes Lance up so they can go back.
*
They're supposed to be celebrating the fact that Joey and Lance are basically done hauling ass across the country every other day but Joey bails after an hour and Chris wanders off after some skanky girl and it's just the three of them by the time they get to the other club. People know they're there but the bodyguards are clearing space in the VIP room. JC's already latched onto some twinkie and Justin pulls Lance out for one dance, just joking around, but when he grabs Lance's ass Lance breaks away, says he's thirsty and heads for the bar.
Justin goes back to freaking some cute tall guy who's been rubbing up against him all night and they wind up in the bathroom, kissing in one of the stalls. His name is Dan or Stan or something but Justin doesn't really care, and when someone comes in to take a piss he moans in Dan's ear and thrusts up against him, the fake marble door slapping against its hinges with each move. There are supposed to be bodyguards outside the bathroom but he doesn't really care. Justin goes down on the guy and when he opens his eyes for a minute he can see Lance's new shoes under the divider but it's too late to stop without this being really embarrassing, and Dan or Stan or whatever is saying Justin's name and Lance's feet don't move. Out on the dance floor the DJ's playing some crappy remix of "It's Gonna Be Me" and the guy moans and says something like, "Jesus, that's you, fuck, I'm fucking --" and then he comes. Justin's standing up and the guy is reaching into Justin's pants when the door slams. He closes his eyes and hopes he didn't just blow some guy named Stan in a bathroom just to make a point.
*
There's some complicated reason Lance can't go back to his own house and Justin doesn't even try to remember why JC is staying with him, but he drives them both home to his place after a day of meetings and rehearsals. JC is wiped out and he drools on the window. Justin whaps JC when he pulls into the driveway. JC just stumbles upstairs and grunts good night. Lance falls onto the couch in the living room and stares at the TV. Justin walks over, sits next to him and turns the TV on. There are monster trucks crushing little cars on ESPN.
"You wanna watch something?" Justin pokes Lance's shoulder to see if he falls over.
"How about something with, um, people? Or maybe, cartoons." Lance leans back into the couch and sighs.
Justin gets up and puts in the South Park movie DVD. He flops back on the couch and then shifts around so his head is resting in Lance's lap. Lance doesn't move. Justin looks up. "Wanna blowjob?"
Lance looks up at the ceiling and sighs. He puts his hands behind his head. "Sure. Why the fuck not?" Justin smirks and tugs at Lance's pants. Lance bats at his hand. "I was fucking kidding, Justin. Stop it."
"I don't mind, man. I like it." Justin tugs at Lance's pants again, brushing his fingers against Lance's stomach. "Have you ever even had a blowjob?"
Lance sighs again. He puts his hand on Justin's and runs his fingers over the back of Justin's hand. "Justin."
"Okay, I'm getting some mixed signals here and your big conversation gambit is to say my name. I'm perfectly happy to do it. I want to do it. I like doing it. And it's just kinda sad, cause, really, getting a blowjob is a beautiful thing. You'd like it." Justin traces little circles on Lance's stomach with his fingers and Lance's hand is rubbing Justin's wrist.
Lance leans back and rubs his eyes. "I've gotten a blowjob. In, you know, actually, you were there. Sort of. In Germany. Though it was maybe not very good. When we were at some stupid club. And, you know what else? You're not the first guy I've ever kissed."
Justin swallows. His fingers stop moving. "You said you'd never even kissed a guy. I don't remember when, but you said that. Were you lying? Are you also not a virgin? Scoring with guys every night in Toronto or something?"
"Dude, I'm not -- you know I'm pretty much working four jobs right now, do you think you could get off my case for, like, a second?"
Justin slides down off the couch and kneels between Lance's open legs. "C'mon," he says. "Whatever, I don't care what you've had before, I'm fucking good at this."
Lance sighs and rolls his neck back against the couch. "Why does that not surprise me?"
"Man, really. I'm fucking great. I don't do anything as well as I suck dick." Lance laughs like he's shocked and Justin puts his hands on Lance's thighs. "I don't even sing as well --"
"Okay, now you're just, that's just a line," Lance says. "There's not anything you do as well as you sing."
Justin reaches for Lance's belt. "Are you sure?"
Lance draws a ragged breath. Justin tugs at Lance's pants and Lance lifts his hips and covers his eyes with his hands. Justin pulls off his T-shirt and says, "Sit on this, 'kay? This couch was kinda expensive." Lance laughs and shakes his head but does it.
Justin smiles and leans forward. He's relieved that Lance is at least a little hard already. He starts kissing Lance, near his balls, rubbing Lance's thighs up and down with his hands. Lance makes a little noise as Justin's hands move towards Lance's ass. Justin scratches a little and Lance grunts. Justin lets his mouth linger over Lance's balls. He's pulled Lance almost all the way off the couch and Lance is completely hard and clinging to the edge of the cushions.
Justin pulls away. Lance opens his eyes and looks at him. "Uh, Justin?" Justin looks at Lance's hands. Lance stutters, "Is -- is that okay?"
Justin grins. "Dude, just be polite." Lance puts his hand on the back of Justin's neck. He asks if it's okay again and Justin ducks his head so Lance can rub the stubble on the top of Justin's head. "Lance, I like it. And I like doing this more if you're actually touching me." Lance closes his eyes again and leans back. He keeps rubbing Justin's head.
Justin wasn't kidding, he completely loves sucking dick. He has Lance's cock in his mouth and he's getting more and more turned on just by the little sighs and stilted breaths coming from Lance. Lance grips Justin's head and starts to thrust his hips slightly, stopping himself with another grunt. Justin pushes against Lance to tell him it's okay. Justin sucks a little harder and pushes into Lance a little with his finger. Then it's two quick thrusts, a tight grip on Justin's head and Lance is done. Justin swallows and tugs Lance onto the floor. "Better than last time?"
Lance nods hazily and smiles. He runs his thumb over Justin's lips and pulls Justin into a wet kiss. Lance lets his hand drift down Justin's side and pulls at the waist of Justin's track pants. "I should, you know, be polite here, right?"
Justin leans against Lance and nods. "As long as we keep kissing." Lance doesn't stop kissing Justin as he wraps his hand around Justin's cock and makes him come. Lance grabs Justin's shirt and cleans Justin off. Justin takes Lance's hand and licks it clean.
They don't ever make it upstairs, just back up onto the cool leather of the couch and out of some of their clothes and under a throw blanket Justin's mom gave him for Christmas.
JC stumbles down the stairs sometime after nine, talking out loud, and Justin wakes up somewhere around "I think today if we get our shit together we could --" and then JC breaks off. Lance is still crashed out and Justin puts a finger to his lips and slides out, pads to the kitchen with JC trailing behind.
"Dude," JC says. "That's --" He peeks back around the corner. "That's Lance!"
"Uh, yeah," Justin says, slapping the fridge like it's gonna cough up hot tea. "Yeah."
"Man," JC says, going for a high five, and Justin shakes his head and lamely hits back, puts water on the stove. "You, you defiler of virgins you. No man is safe."
Justin laughs a little and realizes he's got a half-naked Lance on his couch and it only took, like, months of trying to get that far. He shrugs nonchalantly. "Whatever," he says to JC. "Shut up, man, it's not like I've never walked in on you before."
JC is chortling, not quietly, something like, "I am not going to fuck Lance with you, man," and when Justin turns back from the fridge Lance is standing in the doorway, hair matted on one side and spiked up on the other, still shirtless, pulling at the waistband of his boxers. Justin's seen him like that a thousand times and it's never been anywhere near this cute.
"Welcome to the club, baby," JC says, laughing and digging through a cabinet. He hands a cereal box to Justin. Justin smiles weakly at Lance and Lance blinks again like he doesn't believe this is happening, and JC slings an arm around Justin and says, "Yo, remember that time in Denver? With that kid I was fucking, and you were --"
Lance walks out and Justin throws the Cap'n Crunch at JC, wishing it was an anvil. Or a piano. "What the fuck?" Justin says.
"What?" JC asks. "It's just Lance."
"Yeah. Exactly."
Lance is zipping up his jeans like he wants to throw away the key and Justin just stands there with nothing cute to say. "Look," he starts, and Lance just glares at him and pulls his shirt over his head. Justin rubs his forehead and swallows and waits. Lance sits down and puts on his sneakers and his hands are shaking too much to tie them the first three times. Justin crouches next to him.
"Look," he says. "You don't -- where are you going?"
Lance shakes his head and finally succeeds at a double-knot. "I didn't -- man, you and JC?"
"JC? Wait, that's just, you know. Just ignore him."
"I tried ignoring you and where did that get me?" Lance asks flatly.
"Hey, hello Lance, you know, it's not like none of us looked twice at each other before just because you had your head in the sand. In case you haven't noticed you're a little late to the party."
"Oh, fuck you, Justin, whatever. Just go, like, carve your little notch in the bedpost and be done with it. Congratulations. You gave the best blowjob I ever had. On the other hand I didn't have much to compare it with, so I guess it's possible you're really not that good. I'll let you know."
He stomps out and Justin bends over, lets his head hang between his knees, pulls on his ankles and feels his back stretch. "Fuck," he says aloud. "Fuck."
He swears JC to secrecy and he knows they have enough shit to hide from the other guys that JC will keep his mouth shut. He finds Lance sitting in the driveway, waiting for him and JC by the car. Lance ignores both of them for two days and then they're too busy for Lance to keep it up.
They're rehearsing and then they're in New Orleans and they dance and sweat so much, they all practically fall into their beds without taking off their shoes every night.
Then there's a crash and a scream and they're at the hospital. Justin pushes Lance into the bathroom to wash the blood off Lance's hands from Joey's leg. Lance paces and Justin sits next to Chris and watches Lance stride back and forth.
"When did Lance become your best friend?" Chris hisses at him and jabs at him with a plastic cup full of the blandest coffee known to man.
"Whatever, man. We've just been hanging out." Justin pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his head against his legs. "Just fucking chill, Chris."
They all go back to the hotel and Justin can't sleep so he sits on the edge of the bed watching TV. There's a faint knock on his door and it's Lance, who mumbles something about not being able to sleep. "I hear you, dude." Justin pulls him onto the bed.
"Justin, I don't wanna --" Lance is curled up, rubbing his head.
"Ssshh. I know, I know." Justin kills the TV and pulls off Lance's shoes, tucking them both in bed. "We're just gonna sleep, okay?"
Lance spoons against him and says, "I still have blood under my fingernails." Justin rubs Lance's side and repeats everything the doctors said about how Joey will be fine and how everything is really okay, just scary when you don't know that. Lance falls asleep with his head resting against Justin's shoulder. It's nice, Justin thinks. No one ever comes to Justin in the middle of the night with their problems anymore, except Britney, but she's stopped calling with that kind of thing when they started being more friends with fuck benefits than anything else. Chris just broods and Justin has to worry every little problem out of him. JC's stopped by once but it was a glorified booty call. And Joey and Lance tend to hang with each other so Justin thinks this is nice. Making Lance feel better, he likes it.
Justin and Chris drive over to the hospital together. Chris taps his hand incessantly on the window and Justin's just about to rip Chris's hand off his arm. Then Chris turns toward Justin and slams his hand against Justin's thigh. "You fucking Lance?"
"No," Justin snorts. One blowjob, one handjob, he thinks, in as many months. It's almost fucking pathetic. Embarrassing.
"It's a bad idea, you know. If you're thinking about it." Chris is snarling, in his morning cruelty mode and it's magnified by a hundred because Joey's in the hospital and the tour is starting late and they pushed back the album. Justin wishes Chris would go back to tapping on the window.
"Fine, whatever. It's none of your business, and even if I pretend it is, I would tell you nothing's going on."
Chris slaps Justin's thigh again. "You fucking moron. It is so my business. My business is this fucking band. You've never heard of Fleetwood Mac? The Mamas and the Papas?" Justin remembers what connects those two bands and sighs. Chris ignores him. "This fucking band. And the last thing we need is you playing your fucking mind games on Lance. Along with the superfun of adding to our worries about someone getting a picture of you or JC blowing some guy, now we could all worry that the guy's gonna be Lance. Who everyone thinks is gay, anyway. And don't tell me nothing's going on, you oversized shit walking hormone, I fucking saw Lance leave your room this morning."
Justin takes a corner too fast and squeezes the steering wheel. "Fucking A. Nothing happened, you shit. He was upset about Joey. We talked. He fell asleep. Nothing happened at all like that." Nothing happened. Justin woke up in the middle of night and watched Lance sleep for a while, running his hand over Lance's hair, but that hardly counts as something.
Chris sighs. "Justin, just keep the fuck away from Lance, okay? You're a great person," and Chris says that part like he almost means it. "You're a fucking prince as a friend but I wouldn't wish you on my worst enemy when it comes to dating. And Lance isn't my worst enemy. Get your kicks with someone else."
Justin grits his teeth. "I'm not getting my kicks at all, Kirkpatrick. Stop fucking bugging me about this." Then they're at the hospital and Chris mercifully shuts up.
*
A week into the tour they all go out to a club together. Which turns out to be Joey back at the hotel after ten minutes out so he can call Kelly and babble silly noises at Brianna, JC already attached to a bouncer who looks like a young Barry Bonds only more built, Chris talking earnestly to some chick with black hair and stupid glasses and Justin leaning against a back wall in the VIP area watching Lance walk towards him.
"Spotted tonight's pit stop?" Lance raises an eyebrow and glances back at the crowd.
"Eh, not yet. You?" Justin drinks a little of his beer and watches Lance fidget.
"I don't. You know, I don't think I'm gonna meet anyone meaningful at places like this. And I could go for a more casual thing, but it just seems like a lot of effort. " Lance's eyes seem even brighter under the weird lights and they flick back and forth and never stay on Justin for very long.
"Effort? Dude, you're hot. You're rich, you're famous. You get to pick here. I just look for the finest in the club, myself. Cause I deserve it, " Justin says with a laugh. "You, too. I mean you deserve the best."
"Oh, thanks, Justin." Lance rolls his eyes. "I just mean it's a lot of effort with bodyguards and worrying about photographers, and really, at that point, I'd rather jerk off and still have time to catch up on my email."
Justin laughs again and brushes his hand against Lance's. Lance looks straight at him. "If you, uh, if you strike out tonight, can't find anyone worth the effort, you could come by my room. " Justin swallows more of his beer and keeps his eyes on Lance.
Lance looks away. But his hand grazes Justin's and he says very quietly, "Well. I might."
Two hours later and Justin is ready to go. He's danced a little and there was one girl with a body like Tiffani-Amber Thiessen but she had dull brown eyes and seemed a little stupid and not in an attractive way. All the guys look like JC's bouncer for some reason, and Justin just doesn't feel up for that, any of that. He waves to JC, who already has one hand in the bouncer's back pocket as they stand talking. He doesn't see Lance at all and he leaves.
He gets back to the hotel and goes to his room. He opens the door and Lance is there, sitting on his bed. Lance says, "Oh, thank goodness. I was --"
Justin grins and closes the door. "Thank fucking goodness, indeed."
Lance blushes and looks down at his feet. "I was just, I was starting to think this had been a bad idea. Waiting here. Cause I suddenly thought you were going to come in with some hot blonde and here I'd be. I was gonna leave soon."
"Some hot blonde," Justin repeats, chuckling. He kneels between Lance's thighs and pulls off Lance's belt. "I'm glad you didn't. Pretty fucking glad."
Lance ducks his head and cups Justin's jaw with his hand. "You didn't find anyone fine enough?"
Justin thinks about saying that he did, that's he found someone pretty fucking fine. He opens his mouth and closes it again. He says, "Nope, but this is fine enough." Lance runs his thumb across Justin's lips. Justin says quietly, "Though, I would have knocked on your door if you weren't here." Lance grins and kisses him and Justin pushes up onto the bed, on top of Lance.
A long time ago, when all of this was still new, Justin used to think kissing was as good as it got. Except then he didn't know what he was doing. And he wasn't kissing Lance. "We should have done this years ago," he murmurs, licking under Lance's jaw, and Lance whimpers.
"I didn't know this was -- ah, Jesus. I didn't know then I wanted guys," Lance says, haltingly, tilting his neck back and Justin sucks on his Adam's apple and runs his hands up under Lance's shirt, playing with his nipples. "And you were like 12, anyway."
"Fifteen," Justin says, chewing on Lance's collarbone. "And I'm not anymore." He's been kind of holding himself aloft and the next time Lance pushes up Justin lets himself down, lets their bodies fall flush against each other, dicks hard with friction through their pants. Lance makes this noise like a growl and Justin gets even harder, can't help thinking about being fifteen and how this is all new to Lance, this is the first time he's done that, he's always gonna remember this like this. Lance is kissing him harder, reaching up with his neck and pulling Justin's head down with a hand on the back of Justin's shoulders.
Justin tips his arm so they start to roll and pulls Lance so he winds up on top. Lance is solid and heavy and warm and he cups one knee around Justin's waist and pulls back for a second, breaks the kiss. Justin opens his eyes and Lance is a few inches away, staring at him, this deep serious look that makes the end of Justin's spine shoot sparks, makes him shiver. He turns his head so his cheek cools on the pillow and exhales. "Jesus," he whispers, and while he isn't looking Lance has begun to scoot down, is pushing up Justin's T-shirt and pressing lips to his navel, running a tongue in and out of the indentation and when Lance stops to take a breath air rushes over Justin's hot skin.
"Can I?" Lance says against his stomach, and Justin can't help but laugh and then swallows the sound.
"You better," he says. "God, you better."
"I don't really --"
"It's fine, it's. Just." Lance looks up across the length of Justin's chest and Justin's kind of dizzy from all of it, doesn't know how it happens but he's saying "please, please."
Lance nods, seriously, and he pulls off Justin's pants and boxers, slowly, so goddamned slowly it's killing Justin, he'd ram his dick down Lance's throat except he wants it to be this slow, he can't believe this, that Lance is doing this. Lance's mouth is warm around him, warm and wet and he doesn't have any technique to speak of and Justin really doesn't give a shit because it's Lance and this is all new again.
Justin's got his eyes screwed shut and he's trying to breathe normally, not to come yet and finally he manages to say something like "hands, use your hands" between moans, and Lance does and they're bigger than Justin remembers, palming his balls, pressing into him and Justin tries to warn Lance but it's so fast and he thinks maybe he yells something but Lance doesn't freak even when he can't swallow it all.
Somehow Lance is still dressed, and he's kind of scratchy against Justin's bare hip as he slides back up the bed and Justin can't help it, he's giggling and trying to kiss Lance so Lance knows he's not really laughing. "Get out of those pants," he says, smiling, and Lance does and they kiss with Lance rubbing up against him until he comes, too, and then they're both just loose and breathless, little rag dolls tossed up in the air and come down to rest next to one another.
When the edges all come into focus a while later, Justin sits up. Lance is dozing, face slack and calm, goosebumps rising on his biceps and for a second Justin catches himself thinking ridiculous things and then he rubs his own eyes and says Lance's name.
Lance looks embarrassed and then happy and then kind of radiant, all right in a row, and Justin giggles again. "Man, you have got to get out of here," Justin says, and Lance's face falls.
Lance sighs and sits up. "Okay," he says, not looking at Justin.
"No," Justin says, "I mean. You've -- if Joey or Chris came by right now, I don't think I could." He pulls at Lance's arm and grins. "Look at me. Chris asks me again if we're fucking there's no way I can keep a straight face."
"He --"
"Yeah. Look, there's just so much."
"I know. I know," Lance says, "I get it."
Justin puts a palm on Lance's chest, feels the steady pumping, kisses him on the mouth.
"We're supposed to be leaving at six anyway," Lance says.
"Yeah, you should, you know. Get some sleep."
Lance laughs.
"Okay, right, well a shower maybe?"
"Sure," Lance says, looking sly, and Justin shoves him away lightly.
"Man, I've created a monster. Get out of here, c'mon."
Lance stands up, not seeming to care that he's naked and Justin doesn't give a shit if he's staring back and it's obvious, because, fuck, the boy is fine.
"Get out," Justin says weakly, and thank god, Lance does.
*
There are three specific times during the show when Justin doesn't have to dance or sing and he's in just the right spot where he can just watch Lance, even if it's only for a second. There are two times during the show when Lance looks at him and smiles, every show now. Lance looks hot, hell, they've paid enough to make sure they all look hot during the show but Justin just likes those moments when he doesn't need to do anything else but look at Lance and think he's hot.
They don't share a bus and Justin can't think of reason that would fly with Chris to switch with Joey, even for a night. One night he sits in his bunk and calls Lance on his cellphone and tries to get him to just talk. After exhausting the movie, which Lance is talked out about, and country music, which Lance thinks Justin doesn't really care about, Justin finally gets Lance to ramble on about sports. He listens to Lance's phone-sex perfect voice and starts jerking off. Lance doesn't notice that Justin's "uh-huhs" are getting increasingly breathless but when Lance says something about a two-point conversion Justin groans a little and Lance stops and says, "Are you masturbating?"
Justin just grunts and Lance says, "You're such a fucking perv." He laughs and hangs up and Justin throws the phone against the bunk wall as he comes. Justin tries to call Lance again the next night, but a minute into the conversation, Lance says, "Where's your hand? It's in your pants, isn't it?"
Justin giggles. "No. I already took off my pants."
Lance says, "Freak." But he's laughing as he hangs up. Justin gets off enough on the laugh to come because even Lance's laugh makes him horny now.
Finally, there's a night where they're all staying at a hotel and everyone goes out to a club. Justin drifts casually over to Lance and whispers in his ear, "You're pretty fine, man. Wanna fuck?"
Lance spits out his beer a little. "Fuck," he whispers.
Justin smiles and drinks his beer. "We certainly don't have to fuck. Hot blowjobs are fine."
Lance grins and two hours later they're in Justin's room, naked on his bed. Justin wonders what it means that he's starting to like the kissing most of all. He likes everything else, but he thinks he could kiss Lance for hours on end. He kisses Lance's neck and murmurs, "For your second blowjob, that was pretty impressive."
Lance rubs Justin's back and stretches a little. "Thanks. I could, maybe, set up a suggestion box where you could send tips for improvement."
Justin giggles and whispers in Lance's ear, "If you wanted, you could fuck me."
Lance tenses for a moment. "Uh. Justin, I don't know. I -- I don't know."
Justin sits up and cracks his neck. "I like it. I want you to. Clearly not tonight, cause you gotta get out of here before the guys get back, but uh, next time. We should do it. " Lance sits up and Justin watches Lance rub his eyes. Lance grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes and Justin shuffles forward on the bed. "Hey, hey. Dude, what's up?"
Lance looks down. "It's just, just. Man, do you have a checklist? Like, okay, we've finished with the blowjobs and now it's time for fucking. What happens when I've hit all the bases?"
Justin bats his eyelashes. "We practice until you're really good." Lance laughs a little and he's smiling as he leaves.
JC sits down next to him the next night on the bus. "Jup, man, are you and Lance still whatever?"
Justin glares at JC and stares at Chris on the other side of the bus. "Fuck off, C."
"Dude, seriously, that shit ain't right." JC almost whispers so Justin doesn't slap him.
"Huh. Which part of fuck off did you miss? And who the fuck are you to pass judgment on what I do with my dick?"
Chris looks over for a second and JC rubs his forehead and looks earnestly at the TV screen. He whispers, "Fuck you. Pardon me for actually caring about Lance, here. He's practically a virgin, for fuck's sake. And he's our friend and you shouldn't treat him like your little fucktoy."
Justin clenches his jaw and clasps his hand so he doesn't hit JC. "He's not my fucktoy. Man, he's an adult, you know? I'm not forcing anything. And we're not doing anything, we're just. It's not a thing, C. So, just stuff it." Justin stands up and walks back to his bunk. Fucking JC who would sleep with anyone, anything practically.
*
It's six days before they hit another hotel. Six days, six shows, twelve times that Lance looks over and Justin tries to remember lyrics he's sung for a thousand and one nights. Justin can't remember the last time he wanted to get laid this bad and he's knocking on Lance's door about five minutes after they've checked in.
Lance is laughing as he opens the door, but in that way that means he's glad to be in on the joke. Lance wants to blow him again but Justin misses the taste and bribes him with the promise of a long shower and "dude, getting a hand job in the shower from someone else is really pretty fucking hot," he says, and Lance gives in. This time Lance guides Justin's head without being asked or asking permission and moans Justin's name out loud when he's coming.
Lying back on the bed, Justin shakes out his neck and flicks one of his own nipples, watching it get hard. Lance is on his side, looking blissed out, almost stoned, and he didn't tell Justin it was better than the last one but Justin doesn't really need to have that in writing to know it's true. Justin waits, wants to touch himself more but doesn't, makes himself wait instead.
It's maybe half an hour before Lance squirms and seems to remember where he is, and then he looks a little scared. "Your turn, right?" Lance asks, voice high, and Justin shakes his head just once, back and forth.
"You know what I want." Lance's forearm twitches. "I mean, if you don't --"
"No, no." Lance says. It's not convincing but Justin thinks it's just that there's a first time for everything, you just gotta do it the first time and it's always easier after that.
"It's -- I was right before, right?" Justin bends in and kisses Lance, long and sloppy and he's touching Lance's face, stroking up and down. He pushes a finger in and out of Lance's mouth and Lance sucks on it almost before he catches himself. "Just like that," Justin whispers. "You're good at this."
"Dude, I don't, I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing," Lance says, head down in Justin's neck.
"You're a natural, man," Justin says, holding Lance's head still and meeting his eyes. "You're doing fine. Better than fine. This is gonna be so good, this is gonna feel so good, I promise." Lance looks down and then back up, resolved now. "Yeah?" Lance nods and Justin points to his jacket on the floor and Lance stands up, leans down to rifle through the pockets and his thighs are strong and muscled and Justin clenches his fists so his nails bite into the palms. Jesus.
Lance's hands shake tearing the wrapper and Justin takes it out of his hand, rips it open and puts it on. Lance is kneeling between his spread legs, condom on his dick, fingers still trembling and Justin pulls Lance by the waist, lube smearing on his stomach where Lance is resting, and Justin keeps chasing Lance's tongue around his mouth until Lance's shoulders aren't so tight. He uses a hand to show Lance how, pulls his knees up, keeps saying "yeah" until Lance remembers how good he is at taking direction and just follows the way Justin is moving.
There's this gloss of sweat on Lance's chest and over Lance's shoulder Justin can see hips pumping into him and there's a moan on his lips but Lance ducks and they're kissing again. And then Lance throws back his head and comes and Justin didn't mean to, he doesn't always, but he's coming too, all over their chests, and Lance falls onto him and when Justin opens his eyes it's morning and he's still sticky. The condom's on the floor next to the bed, Justin can see it out of the corner of his eye. On his other side Lance is sleeping on his stomach and Justin wakes him up with a kiss on the lowest backbone, licks his way down his checklist but Lance wakes up with a start and almost kicks Justin off the bed.
"Sorry, sorry," Lance mumbles, still not really conscious and he's so naked and cute that Justin can't do anything but laugh and say it's okay. There's dried come clinging to Lance's patch of chest hair and Justin realizes he must look just as fucked and he laughs more. And then Lance's wild eyes light on the clock and he sits up, pulling covers with him, and Justin does fall off the bed, hard on his ass.
"You gotta get out," Lance says in a harsh whisper.
"No time for a handjob in the shower, huh," Justin says, still sitting, and pulls his boxers off the pile of clothes.
"Justin, it's, we're supposed to be on the bus in, like --" He looks at the alarm again. "Twenty minutes ago!"
Justin just grins and stands up. He pulls on a T-shirt that might or might not be his and hopes he can make it to his room without anyone smelling how much he reeks of sex. "You might want to flush that." He points at the full rubber on the carpet and Lance gets off the bed. "You know, destroy the evidence. Just a suggestion."
Lance is halfway to the bathroom and turns. He looks like he wants to take something back and Justin walks over from the door and settles a hand on Lance's bare waist, rests his forehead against Lance's and sighs. "You're runnin' around naked now," he says and Lance blushes, pushes his neck forward for a kiss. "You're good at this, you know?" Lance rolls his eyes and Justin kisses him sudden and hard, their teeth hitting, his hand on Lance's smooth back. "Real good."
Chris is even later than Justin and Lance getting to the buses and people grouse at all three of them about delays. Justin shrugs it off and curls up in his bunk, feeling like he's all smiles and well and truly fucked. At the soundcheck thing Lance stays on the other end and jokes with Joey mostly. He grins at Justin once and then looks away.
Justin rounds a corner at the venue and hears Joey saying something that sounds like "the Justin thing." He's sure he hears Lance answer, so he stops to listen. It's like something out of a bad soap opera his mom would watch but there's something curling around his spine and he wants to hear this.
Joey says, "You and Justin? And, I mean, how far did it go?" Justin's stomach ties into knots.
Lance makes a noise and says, "Just, not that far, Joey, practically nothing. Look, it's fine. I'm sorry I brought it up. I was just a little freaked this morning."
Joey laughs. "And who wouldn't be freaked by the blinding force of fuckin' Timberlake on the prowl? Man, you know how bad an idea that is, right?"
Justin can hear his own heart beating and it's so loud and fast he thinks they might hear it and catch him and this is all a really stupid idea, just standing there waiting to get caught. There's something welling in his throat and he rubs his face. He needs to calm down. Lance sighs. Then he says, "I know how bad an idea it is. And it's just this game to him, to me, too. Just fooling around. It's nothing. I don't wanna, let's just not talk about it anymore."
Justin leans against the concrete wall and he can breathe normally. He's surprised by the coolness of the wall behind him. Joey says, "Well. Okay, okay, consider it shelved. But, man, you were fooling around with him?"
Lance laughs. "Justin fuckin' Timberlake wants to blow you -- you'd say no?" Joey laughs and mumbles no. Justin turns the other way and walks back to where he came from.
He's not mad, he's not mad at Lance. He would have appreciated some warning that Lance was gonna tell Joey cause things are the way they are and Joey is certain to tell Chris. Justin makes himself as scarce as he can for the next three hours so Chris won't bitch him out before the show.
Lance smiles at him both times during the show and Justin feels something in his throat again, in his stomach pushing out. He has a momentary vision of falling from the stage or falling to his knees and screaming. He pushes it aside, like stage fright or something and gets back to work. He never falls.
They run offstage and straight to the buses and Chris is on theirs first so he stands in the middle of the front part and growls Justin's name. JC sits down with a stern expression on his face. Justin crosses his arms and stares at both of them. He doesn't need a fucking intervention.
"So. You lied to me and you have been fucking around with Lance." Chris sounds livid and Justin's already pissed.
"I didn't lie to you. Nothing had happened that night you thought you'd caught us and you didn't, you know, check back with me daily. "
Justin opens his mouth to say more but Chris rolls right over him. "Fuck you. Fuck you, you dick for brains addle-minded little boy! People are not here for you to get your rocks off. People you work with, your fucking friends are not here for you to play your little rock star games with. You wanna fuck around and not care about anything but getting off? Choose someone else. Stay the fuck away from Lance. He told Joey he wants you to stop. Game over now, Timberlake."
Justin wants to ask if that applies to JC, too, if Chris gives a fuck about the ten times he and JC have fucked in the last three years, why that doesn't seem to count. He wants to make fun of Chris for practically quoting one of their own songs and he wants to know what Chris intends to do him, how Chris is gonna enforce this new rule. But he opens his mouth and he can't force any words past the lump in his throat or the weight in his stomach. There's something suffocating him and he can only force out a strangled "Fuck you" as he pushes past Chris and runs back to his bunk.
He stays away from Lance. He beats Chris thoroughly and completely in every video game they play. No one mentions the thing and sometimes Justin feels like there's something wrapped around his neck, tightening. Two days after the blow-up, they're all at a club again in some city Justin doesn't ever want to come back to and Lance walks up to him. Lance smiles and says, "Hey."
"Chris is gonna, I dunno, beat me down or something if we talk too long, man." Justin leans against a stool and looks around, trying to be casual.
Lance looks down. "I know. I'm sorry. I just -- I was a little freaked."
Justin looks at the tile by Lance's feet. There's two flattened cigarette butts right by Lance's left shoe. "Why? I thought -- you liked it, I thought. "
"I did. I did. But it was just -- Justin. You and JC were joking about deflowering virgins and I'm twenty-two and -- I felt like a dork." Justin looks right at Lance, sees his clear green eyes and worried hands peeling at the label on his beer.
"Why would you feel that way? You're not. A dork, you're so not a dork. You were great. I wanted -- it feels good. It's what people do cause it feels good." Justin feels like every eye in the place is on him. He always feels that way and it's usually true but tonight it's really just the hostile eyes of JC, Joey and Chris he feels. He looks away from Lance for a moment and sees Chris patting someone on the shoulder as he starts to walk toward them.
Lance coughs. "I'm not people -- Justin, it just felt like it all happened so fast and yeah." Lance looks away and spots Chris. "Well, we have about ten seconds before Chris comes to kick your ass and Joey pulls me into some long-ass heartfelt moment. I just wanted to say that." It's all half-light and bright flashing colors and all Justin wants is to never again in his life have an important conversation in a nightclub. He can't see anything and he's already losing the thread of this conversation. Justin reaches and grips Lance's forearm for a moment and tries to think of what he needs to say here. He's got no voice again and he turns away, bumping Chris on the way to the bathroom.
He looks at himself in the mirror and sees the shape of his mother's face underneath his own. He glances back and he just looks tired. He wishes things made more sense under fluorescent lights but he still has no idea what's wrong with him. He flirts with three girls, dances for an hour without really hearing any music and goes home alone.
He sees Brit for a day and when the cameras are off and everyone else is shuffled away, she stares up at him and says, "What's wrong, sweetie?"
He sits down and looks at her. He does his best imitation of a fish, his mouth opening and closing around words he doesn't know how to say.
Her face softens and she almost laughs. "Well. Look at you. Head over heels and completely miserable. I'm just gonna take a moment to enjoy this, you know." She still sometimes looks at him like she wants him, and Justin fell out of being that interested in her before she ever got tired of wanting him more than he wanted her. The arrangement works fine and they still get good press.
She walks over to him and hugs him. He clings to her for a moment. She rubs his neck and says, "What's his name?"
He pulls away and looks at her. "How do you -- why do you think?"
She smiles. "I'm pretty fucking smart when it comes to you, Timberlake." Her face softens again and she says, "On the other hand, no nookie for you now. I'm not gonna wait for you to say -- to call out someone else's name." Brit, he thinks, is a good friend.
He sits on the bench on the bus and picks up a magazine next to him. It's that time late at night when he's still not down from the show but he can't quite do anything energetic. He wants to close his eyes and then open them and see Lance above him, kissing him. The magazine is called Punk Planet and he starts reading a column about lesbian skateboarders. He can't imagine how it got on their bus.
Chris is listening to something, something that's all acoustic strumming and a raspy English voice. Just another folk guitar lament. Justin knows how to make people cry with music, violins and the right mix of treble and bass, a break in the voice and a single perfect tear. He knows all the tricks and suddenly he's falling for all of them. An organ plays over the bridge. The voice comes back singing, "I'm gonna sleep with the radio on tonight so that I don't miss you."
JC looms over him and says, "Justin? Are you alright?" Justin opens his mouth and feels the tears running over his cheeks. JC leans forward more and says, "What is it? Did you and Britney fight?" Justin closes his eyes and shoves JC out of the way as he walks back to his bunk.
He still looks at Lance every show. Lance sometimes smiles at him, sometimes not. And Justin used to look and think about getting that fine ass in bed and now he won't be doing that again but he still looks. Looking at Lance makes his stomach hurt.
There's a party after some thing. Bright lights and photos and it's his whole life to date and he's never minded before. A R.E.M. song plays, Michael Stipe singing about tidal waves and hurricanes and he's not afraid. Justin can't breathe and he wants to scream again. He has no idea what he'd say if he opened his mouth. He starts walking around looking for no one and stops in the middle of the room because he's looking for Lance. The song is still playing, Stipe now insisting that no one can see him cry. One perfect tear and voices breaking.
Justin sighs and tugs at his collar. Joey walks up to him and says, "Justin, you okay?"
"Don't I look okay?" Justin watches people ebb and flow around them.
"You look out of it. Like you're a hundred miles away from here. And JC said you were freaking the other night. What's wrong, man?"
Justin turns and looks at Joey. Joey and Chris and JC and none of them can figure out why he's not happy. He shakes his head and leaves the party.
He's flipping channels in the hotel past old movies and there's Midnight Cowboy. Chris is nuts for The Graduate and made them all watch it, Justin more than once. Chris kept exclaiming over different parts, saying, "See, this part here -- kid can't get the bartender but, man, she just sits down and bam!" Joey said he liked the movie when it was over and commented that it had a nice happy ending. Chris went ballistic and rewound and froze the screen with Dustin Hoffman and Katherine Ross in the backseat of the bus. "Do they look happy, Joey? They have no fucking clue what to do next!" Justin sits on the edge of the bed and wonders what Dustin Hoffman meant by that face. Maybe he meant it was the best they could hope for, being unsure.
His clock says it's 3:30 a.m. and he can't even tell what time zone they're in. He gets up and walks to Lance's room and knocks on the door. This thing is wrapped around him, choking him and filling him. When Lance opens the door and stares at him, hair all mussed up, Justin feels it break inside him. He opens his mouth and it's like sobbing after holding your breath. He is sobbing and he hears his voice break as he says, "Did -- did you really tell Joey you wanted to stop?"
Lance starts to say something but Justin isn't done. He's crying like a fucking kid and he gasps out, "This isn't a game to me. It's not a game. I mean it. I'm serious." Lance pulls him into the room and hugs him. Justin's leaning against the back of the door, wrapped in Lance's arms and crying on his shoulder. "Fuck. Fuck. It's a thing, Lance, it's not nothing to me at all."
Lance murmurs something like, hush or don't cry and rubs his back. Justin hiccups once or twice and stops crying. He starts talking to the room, the rumpled bed and the laptop on the table. "Did you tell Joey you wanted to stop?"
"No." Lance pulls away from Justin a little and leans his forehead against the side of Justin's head. "I, I may have lied a little to Joey. I lied and uh, I was just freaking out and I think he got the wrong impression."
Justin turns so they're looking at each other. He's lost the words again but he tries anyway. "This isn't nothing to me, at all. Do you --?"
He doesn't even know exactly what he's asking but Lance nods anyway and says "Yeah" with a very serious look so at least one of them knows something here. Lance kisses him and it's so perfect Justin wants to cry again. He feels like he can breathe for the first time in forever.
Lance walks him to the bed and he sits down on the edge, kind of embarrassed, mostly just relieved that he doesn't feel so damn horrible anymore. He's sniffling and Lance gets him a Kleenex from the bathroom and then he really feels like a little kid. "I'm sorry," he says, "I just."
"Yeah," Lance says again, arm around his shoulders. "Did I -- I never told you about the first time I kissed a guy. It was, uh, in Orlando and he was, I guess, just a little older than me and he looked like Troy Aikman, a little. And it sucked. So, I, uh, I don't count it, really." Justin sniffs loudly and Lance laughs and goes down on his knees in between Justin's legs.
"Oh, man," Justin says, "I'm not, I didn't show up to try to --"
"I know," Lance says. "I know. I just -- this is what I can do. I mean, this is what people do, right? To feel better?"
Justin wipes his nose and tugs Lance up off the floor, pulls him onto his lap and they kiss again. "I feel better already."
Lance stands up a little and comes back down so he's straddling Justin. "Let's try again, maybe. See how you feel then."
"It's not a big deal, Lance. I mean, there's plenty to do, if you don't want to, you know, it's --" Lance is kissing his neck and pushing him back on the bed and his hand is down Justin's pants before Justin has really realized what's happening.
This guy Justin used to fuck whenever they were in New York would tell Justin no one would remember the fact that he gave great head. "You want to be the fuck they can't forget," he'd say, "then be polite. Go about the whole thing with a little class and ten years later they'll still think it was the best thing that ever happened to 'em. Just be polite." And Justin's always taken the advice in this quid pro quo, you fuck me how I want and then I'll do it how you want kind of way and that's pretty much served him well. He's never had to go without. But now he thinks he's been wrong the whole time. It's about this. About wanting to do what the other guy needs, even when he doesn't know how to ask for it.
Lance is fucking him slow and sweet like a ballad and Justin is trying not to cry against his shoulder and Lance kisses him again. "Jesus," Justin says. "Yeah."
*
Justin worries he's turning into a sap. Some kind of sad little girl who's moved by the worst of the worst songs on the radio. He almost screws up during "Two of Us" cause he really listens to the words and looks over at Lance with a bright smile, and he's even more embarrassed by the time he almost teared up during "This I Promise You." He's definitely never felt this incredibly stupid before. Seven weeks of this and he's worried he'll turn into a fourteen year old and wake up one day drawing hearts on all his binders with "JRT + LB" written in red ink.
He knows they'll get caught. Not the big bad caught with pictures and press, but the guys will stumble across them. And it's nice now, this one immense thing that he never gets asked about in interviews and he can just have as his own, unexamined by Chris or JC or Joey. He wonders what will happen when he's facing the other three pissed at him and "what about the band, man."
He's in such a good mood, though. He even manages to cheer up Chris, which Lance says doesn't count as altruistic because a cheery Chris is a Chris who doesn't monitor every move the two of them make. Justin doesn't care. Cheery Chris, happy Justin, Lance fucks like a dreamboat and all's right with the world.
"This is really great sex," he says to Lance, stretching back on another hotel bed, warm and sweaty and nicely fucked.
"You would know," Lance says, laughing, running his hand over Justin's chest. And maybe this is the first tour where Justin is only getting laid once or twice a week but the quality of the sex is worth waiting for and the rest of it, the way Lance hums old George Strait under his breath while he's washing his hair, that part is just a fucking gift.
Chris and JC drag Joey to a club and Justin isn't faking when he says he's okay with skipping. He's in Lance's room ten minutes after they've gone. Justin's walking out of the shower two hours later, rubbing his head and making jokes about the advantages of very short hair when they both hear the key card in the door. The first time it doesn't catch.
"Fucking shit," Justin says and wraps the towel around his waist. His clothes are scattered over the easy chair by the door where they first fucked. Lance is naked on the bed and he's pulling on a pair of boxers when Joey, JC and Chris walk in.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," Chris says right off the bat, flinging up his hands in disgust and slamming a fist against the door. "Fucking Christ, Timberlake, do you listen to nothing I say?" Joey pulls them inside and shuts the door and Justin turns his back, faces Lance, waits until Lance has got a shirt on and then looks back at the guys.
JC and Joey and Chris are lined up against the door like guard dogs and Justin sits next to Lance on the edge of the bed. After a long angry minute Joey breaks form and takes the desk chair, leaning down and looking at the floor and muttering, "I just came back cause I loaned Lance my phone, man."
"Okay, look, whatever," Chris says, trying to sound like he's taken control. "It's not a secret anymore, it's not gonna be as fun. You guys just, you know, avoid each other for a while and we'll forget this happened. All of this."
Lance is staring intently at a point on the wall between Chris and JC, who is smirking a little. Justin feels like a bodyguard fell on his chest and where Lance's thigh is touching his own it's cold and shaky. Or maybe he's cold and shaky. He feels clammy inside and he kind of wants to puke at the thought of forgetting a single minute of the past few months.
"Let's," Joey starts, sounding sympathetic, and then looks at Lance and shakes his head. He's disappointed and Justin wonders how much worse it would be if he hit Joey right then and they were done with it, if it was all his fault. "Let's just talk about this, okay?"
Justin can hear Lance's breath hitch in his throat and before he remembers where they are he reaches over and grabs Lance's hand to reassure him. Chris rolls his eyes and JC actually giggles and Joey sighs again but Justin knows if he can write a stupid pop song that makes people scream and cry at the same time this shouldn't be so hard. He thinks it's not so hard, and then he opens his mouth and what comes out is, "It's not really up for discussion," and he sounds really sure. He really means it.
"Just a minute," Chris says, and Justin cuts him off. Lance's hand is loose under his own and Justin squeezes it.
"Wait. This is not, we're not fucking Fleetwood Mac here. This is our decision, not yours, and, you know, maybe just once I thought you'd give us a little credit and say, I don't know, I'm glad you're both happy."
Chris scoffs. "Give you credit? You? Let's all get on the same page here, Stevie. We all know how this is gonna go." Lance sits up straighter and Justin would give everything he's gotten in the past five years if it were just the two of them alone in the room again.
"You fucking don't know, Chris. Jesus, we have no idea so you certainly don't know what the fuck is gonna happen. But, man, this is not -- we are not just fucking around here. This is for real, and you just need to let go for a minute and, you know, think I'm smart enough --"
"This is not very smart," Chris says, and Justin heaves a sigh and looks down. He thinks maybe this is what it feels like when there's nothing left.
"Look," Lance says then, craning his neck at Joey and wrapping his fingers in between Justin's. "This is going to be fine."
Chris kicks his heel against the door like he's run out of arguments.
"Lance, man," Joey says, and then Lance is shaking his head, it's his turn and he's got something to say and Justin's back is tingling and hot all at once.
"I'm sorry this is how -- we should have just told you, you shouldn't have had to find out like this. But we're sorry, and you guys didn't exactly give us any reason to think you'd take the news well."
"I wonder why," Chris says, low.
"So here's what we're gonna do." Lance keeps going like no one said a word, and his voice is calm and steady and Justin thinks maybe he should be taking notes, it's that kind of confidence Lance has that makes Justin think getting the good voice maybe wasn't the best part of the deal.
"We're just gonna all deal with this. We're, you know, we've dealt with shit a lot crazier than this. Nobody here is a kid who needs to be taken care of. Not Justin and certainly not me. There's probably a better chance of no one winding up in some tabloid if we stick together, anyway."
"This --" Chris starts, and this time Lance interrupts him.
"No, Chris," he says. "This is how it is. This is how it's gonna be. You don't actually get a vote about this part of our lives, no matter how much you may think you deserve one."
Joey stands up. "Okay then," he says, nodding at them both. "Okay."
Lance stands up too and they hit each other's fists. Justin almost forgets to hold on to his towel as he gets up and Lance grins at him.
"Show's over," Justin says in JC and Chris' direction. "You want to ask anything else you're gonna have to come back once we're, you know, dressed. It's fucking cold in here."
Chris shakes his head but looks less pissed off. JC maybe looks jealous and he just shrugs and says, "Sure," on his way out. Lance puts a hand on Justin's bare back as Joey starts to close the door, and then Joey hangs his head back around and Lance doesn't take his hand away.
"Dude, my phone?" he says, sheepishly, and Lance scoops it off the nightstand and tosses it over. "Thanks. And, you know. Yeah. Good."
"Holy mother of god," Justin says, falling backward onto the bed and giggling. "I can't believe that just happened."
Lance lies down at a right angle to Justin so his feet are hanging off the side of the bed. Lance pulls Justin's head up so it's resting on his stomach and Justin can hear him laugh a little too, Justin's head bounces as Lance's chest moves up and down. Just breathing there, the two of them.
"Bound to happen eventually," Lance says and Justin reaches up a hand to feel the side of Lance's face. Then he turns over and slides up the rumpled sheets till they're nose-to-nose. Kisses Lance's lips lightly like he's afraid it will bruise. Lance puts his hand on the back of Justin's neck and comes in closer, tastes him, pushes their bodies together so it's warm in the room again. They taste the same now, Justin thinks. He thinks he could do this forever.
END.
Begged, borrowed or stole from REM, Joseph Heller, Nadine, Untitled (How Does It Feel), Mike Nichols, Madonna, Herb Ritts and Arena Homme. Jess, Jae, AJ and Sandy all sang along.